Sahara: A Window Into The Hollywood Screenplay

Charlie Kaufman's "Adaptation" was a delightful and twisted look at the hardscrabble business of screenwriting in Hollywood and, yet, as much as I enjoyed it I honestly feel that "Sahara", a yarn about adventure maven Dirk Pitt (Matthew McConaughey) on the perpetual hunt for an ironclad Civil Warship with gold stowed away aboard it buried somewhere in the African desert directed by the son of Michael Eisner, is an even more accurate portrayal of this process that is so near and dear to my heart.

I'm not joking. Honestly.

I can sense some detractors out there who do not share my opinion. It doesn't know a damn thing about the process of screenwriting, you're saying. It involves motor boats blowing up, you're telling me, and noisy gunfire and camel chases and a pre-"Office" Rainn Wilson and a secret plant in the desert our main characters break into which contains, as the esteemed Roger Ebert noted, "James Bondian vantage points...from where (the characters) can observe uniformed clones carrying out obscure tasks."

Oh, really? It doesn't know anything about screenwriting in Hollywood? Please consider the following exchange between McConaughey's Dirk and his obligatory sidekick Al (Steve Zahn):

Al: "Well, we're in the desert, looking for the source of a river pollutant, using as our map a cave drawing of a Civil War gunship, which is also in the desert. So I was just wondering when we're gonna have to sit down and re-evaluate our decision-making paradigm?"
Dirk: "I don't know. It seems to be working so far."

I'm not sure there has ever been a cinematic exchange that has so succinctly summed up the tinseltown script process. Seriously, tell me that Al doesn't represent one screenwriter pointing out the plot's complete lunacy and that Dirk doesn't represent the other screenwriter merely dismissing this well-reasoned outrage with a wave off his hand.

In fact, this is a real possibility. The author, Clive Cussler, of the book series on which "Sahara" was supposedly "based", and who was one of ten (I repeat: ten, one ahead of "Armageddon's" infamous nine) screenwriters on the film, actually sued the producers for a breach of contract stating that he was not given final approval of the script.

(Note: On the legal aspects of all this I have no comment, though allow me to also state for the record that my friend and fellow film snob Rory has read some of Cussler's books, which I have not, and stated they are just as ludicrous as this movie.)

But this development only lends more credence to my hypothesis. Consider the sequence when our heroes finally do happen upon the ironclad ship they seek (and, for God's sake, don't presume I gave anything away with that revelation - of course they find it) and, with the bad guys bearing down on them, Dirk decides their only option is to open fire with the ship's long-unused cannons.

Al: "It hasn't been fired in over a hundred years! It'll never work!"
Dirk: "Why not?"

Can't you picture the writers parrying every Cussler objection with "Why not?" and then Cussler heaving hotel vases out the window?

Cussler: "Wait, why would the evil Frenchman's henchman stay behind at the plant to try and push Matthew McConaughey off the helicopter pad when the whole plant was about to blow up in two minutes?"
Writers: "Why wouldn't he?"

Partly that's what fuels my love of this movie. It feels like we're truly getting a glimpse at the re-writing practices of Hollywood. It's as if the movie itself is being re-written as it unfolds before us and it's pretty darn amusing to see how idiotic these fourteenth and fifteenth drafts can be. There is one moment of such lazy plot advancement it made me laugh so loud in the theater the person sitting in front of my friend Dan and I turned around to look at me.

Okay, so our heroes find themselves in a camp of people in opposition to the evil African war lord who is poisoning the continent's water and causing a plague and....so on and so forth. Whatever. Your typical stuff. The point is this: Steve Zahn is playing soccer with a group of kids and, suddenly, the soccer ball goes awry and bounces off to the left and away from Steve Zahn and then bounces down a steep, rocky incline and keeps bouncing and bounces down into a cave and Steve Zahn enters the cave to retrieve the soccer ball and then, gasp, looks up and sees something on the cave wall and, wouldn't you know it, it's a map providing the location of the very Civil War ironclad ship which Matthew McConaughey has been seeking all these years!

I mean, this moment is brilliant. It is just unfathomably brilliant - in so much as it represents every single thing that is wrong with writing in the movies. Yet it is so obviously bad I sometimes wonder if it was on purpose. It's like a language arts exercise in middle school where you are asked to identify the correctly structure sentence and the incorrectly structured sentence and the incorrectly structured sentence is spectacularly incorrectly structured just to ensure that every student understands.

This scene of the bouncing ball leading to the map might very well be the worst written scene in the whole history of the written word. You just can't write that and not know what you're doing. You can't! It's not possible! You have to know! You have to! You don't talk to strangers and you do not, under any circumstances, have a soccer ball bouncing down a steep incline and into a cave allow for the discovery of a film's most crucial plot point. If the writers had explained this to noted screenwriting guru Robert McKee his entire body would have just gone up in flames.

Yet, what's most baffling is the fact that "Sahara" actually contains one passage that is perfect screenwriting! I swear! With Dirk and Al trapped deep in enemy territory their benefactor (William H. Macy, chewing on a cigar at all times) summons some guy played by Delroy Lindo (I don't even remember who he was or where he came from and I really don't desire to take the time to look it up) to get them out. Lindo says not a chance. Lindo walks away. Macy says this: "October 27. 1982." "Oh yeah," Lindo replies. "I knew you'd bring that up." "And now I have," says Macy. And based on this Lindo agrees to save Dirk and Al. Except the movie never tells us what happened on that date and it shouldn't because the characters already know what happened and would have no need to say it aloud.

It's akin to a sterling passage at the end of the brilliant "You Can Count On Me" when Mark Ruffalo's brother asks his sister (played by Laura Linney) at an emotionally charged moment, "Do you remember what we used to say when we were kids?" And she says, "Of course, I do." And they never say what it was they said because they wouldn't because they already know.

How in the hell was "Sahara" smart enough to do this but stupid enough to do everything else?! They had to know what they were doing, is the only answer. They injected this little nugget of good writing into the middle of all the madness just to see if anyone was paying attention.

That's my theory, anyway. I'm probably wrong. In fact, if I were in Vegas I would bet against myself. Not that it matters. Intentional or not, "Sahara" would be fantastic instructional tool for aspiring screenwriters. Look, kids, this is what not to do. Okay?

The Chairman of the Board

It seems that Martin Scorsese has been slated to direct a biopic of New Jersey's second most legendary singer (yes, I said it - I meant it - I'm right - end of discussion - and if anyone takes this as their cue for a Jon Bon Jovi joke I'll set fire to their lawn) - that is, Frank Sinatra.

The question, of course, becomes who in the name of God can portray Frank Sinatra? Anyone? Is this possible? Is he in the realm of unportrayable? (For instance, I think Elvis is unpotrayable.)

Yet, I get the feeling that Mr. Scorsese's latter years DeNiro, Leonardo DiCaprio, would be considered a top choice. Do you? And does this also mean that Scorsese brings Kate Beckinsale back as Ava Gardner? And does this also mean that Scorsese brings Billy Crudup over from "Public Enemies" to reprise J. Edgar Hoover? And does this also mean they are going to have to re-create footage of "From Here To Eternity"? Because if they do they would have to cast someone as Montgomery Clift and, as far as I'm concerned, that would be just as difficult as casting someone as Frank Sinatra. Maybe Billy Crudup could pull off Montgomery Clift but if Billy Crudup is already playing J. Edgar Hoover....

Maybe I'll just stop thinking about this now.

The Brothers Bloom

A crazy affair, "The Brothers Bloom" uses tones and influences like Cameron Crowe employs pop songs. It begins with a monologue that is totally Wes Anderson at his most quirky except that it is narrated by Ricky Jay which also lends it that inevitable Paul Thomas Anderson feel. It then transitions into more heightened Wes Anderson territory while still utilizing quirky Wes Anderson. (The difference? Quirky is Mark Ruffalo and Rinko Kikuchi in snazzy outfits on a hillside beneath an umbrella drinking Coronas and holding up score cards like judges at an Olympic Diving competition after Adrien Brody purposely plows into a car on a bike. Heightened is Adrien Brody and Rachel Weisz dancing to Bolero on an oceanliner.) The third act then transitions into Mamet at his most duplicitious.

It's really frustrating because buried somewhere in here is a wonderful film, specifically a touching, awkward, strange romance. If you will allow me to drop another name, the film also reminds us of Woody Allen and "Annie Hall" since, as we know from cinematic lore, that movie began as murder mystery, an angle which was completely cut to focus on the romance. Perhaps "The Brothers Bloom" should have done the same?

Adrien Brody and Mark Ruffalo are brothers, con men from an exceptionally early age. Ruffalo is Stephen, the older one and the one who dreams up and concocts all their complex cons, written as if they were Russian literature - "thematic arcs embedded with symbolism." Brody is referred to as Bloom (why? I'm not sure) and is, of course, the one who seems to be tiring of this double-crossing life. But Stephen pitches him one last con with a mark who comes in the form of a beautiful, reclusive, hobby-collecting millionaire in New Jersey named Penelope (Rachel Weisz). As one would expect, this con involves Bloom falling in love with Penelope which will then lead to the brothers and the third member of their intrepid gang, Bang Bang (Rinko Kikuchi), a woman who never talks and makes up for it by being able to blow up just about anything, hauling in significant sums of money while going out in a (fake) blaze of glory.

Ah, but since they are con men and we know they are con men we know that there is far, far more to all of this than meets the eye. Do we know how much more? Does Bloom know how much more? Is Stephen conning his own brother? Is someone conning Stephen? Is the filmmaker conning all of us? Is he conning himself? Do we become sick of the cons?

I love all these actors - especially Ruffalo and Weisz - and they are all good in their roles. Ruffalo gets incredible mileage just from his smile, sincere in a truly sincere way but also sincere in a very I'm-about-to-screw-you-over way. The chemistry between Brody and Weisz is believable. When the movie calms itself down and focuses on this burgeoning relationship it can actually be fairly enjoyable. Penelope's true joy in turning into a con artist is a sight to behold and her willingness to take point in the midst of the con allows for the single greatest use of the overused "air duct escape" in movie history. That was a moment I loved. I was howling with laughter.

Writer/Director Rian Johnson debuted with the noir-in-a-high-school film "Brick" a couple years back and obviously on the strength of that he got more money for his next one and did a lot more with it. "The Brothers Bloom" is ambitious, that's for sure, but while in "Brick" he quoted his obvious influences it all added up to a whole that was distinctly his own. "The Brothers Bloom" feels like a big budget film school exercise where you pick your favorite directors and make homages.

There is a moment when Bloom and Penelope are trotting through the streets of some exotic locale (there are too many for me to recollect) and we can sense they want to take each other's hand and then the camera darts behind some obstacle and so they are out of our vision for just a moment and then the camera finds them again and now they are holding hands and the music swells and they smile and we smile and think, "Hey, that's yours, Rian! No one else's!" And we realize that hasn't happened near enough.

Terminator Salvation

I should have watched the fourth installment in the "Terminator" series from a lawn chair on a driveway while watching traffic pass by - which is to say, I'm an old man anymore when it comes to action movies. For one thing, director McG's take on this successful franchise is noisy. Like, really, really noisy. I was lamenting the fact I didn't bring earplugs to the showing. This approaches Michael Bay levels in unwieldy volume. In fact, for awhile I wondered if I mixed up my release dates and wandered into a showing of "Transformers". There were gigantic robots who looked a lot like Transformers (I don't recall having seen any robots this gigantic in the other ones but I could be quite wrong) and a comely though bland young woman who looked an awful lot like Megan Fox. (The credits indicated she was played by one Moon Bloodgood. Moon Bloodgood? All I can say is this name is infinitely better than the one she's given in the film. She's goin' places with that name.) I checked my ticket stub. Nope. "Terminator Salvation".

Second, remember in "Terminator 2: Judgement Day" when Arnold Schwarzenneger is on the motorcycle and at the last second before the semi truck plows into him he swoops around in front of it? You know why that was so cool? Because a motorcyle really swooped around in front of a semi, that's why. "Terminator Salvation" is just packed wall to wall with fake explosions and fake Terminator motorcycles (or something) and fake guys getting thrown from fake Terminator aerial crafts (or something) and thrown into fake rivers where they fake skip across the water. Perhaps to these young whippersnappers driving by me as I kick back in my lawn chair it's all well and good but it b-o-r-e-d the heck outta me. You want to whine about wobbly steadicam in the "Bourne" movies? Fine. Gimme all your wobbly steadicam that's still expertly edited, I'll give you all the CGI explosions you want, and we'll call it a day. Kapeesh?

The story of "Terminator Salvation" isn't so much a story as it is snippets of story wedged here and there between gunfire and fireballs. The year is 2018, post "Judgement Day", and John Connor (Christian Bale) is among those leading humankind's resistance against the machines. We quickly catch up with Marcus Wright (Sam Worthington) hiking through the barren landscape. Who is he really? Well, the twist the filmmakers have saved for us might have been just a bit twistier minus the prologue that opens the movie. Did they not want it to be a twist or did this simply slip past everyone involved?

In any event, before long, in the wreckage of Los Angeles, Marcus has encountered young Kyle Reese (Anton Yelchin), who you might recall from the first "Terminator" film way back in 1984 as the heroic Michael Biehn, the man who saves Sarah Connor from the machines and, well, becomes John's dad in the process. We know it's Kyle Reese because he introduces himself by saying the line that Michael Biehn said the first one which has always been my favorite line in the series and, thus, made me so mad I almost picked up a nearby empty soda cup to hurl it at the screen screaming, "It's a great line, damn it, not a catchphrase! Can't you people let anything be sacred?!"

But Reese will be taken prisoner by the machines, Marcus will inevitably find his way to John Connor who will realize that if the machines kill Reese he's never born and that's gonna be a serious problem. There are a few supporting characters, too, and the film saves time in their development by making them the usual cliches so we're up to speed immediately. We have the Mute Kid who doubles as a Sidekick and the Commanding Officer who disagrees with the Hero every step of the way and barks lines like "You're relieved of your command!" and the Pregnant Wife of the Hero back at base camp (she is played by Bryce Dallas Howard in a performance that generates as much excitement as the Great Salt Lake). I will say, however, Bale is pretty good considering what he's up against. I believed the speech he had to give to the resistance near the end.

In the end, though, I don't even think it was the movie itself that disappointed me as much as the premise. I'm a guy who likes a little mystery. I like some questions to be unresolved. I revel in the unknown now and then. And I didn't like seeing the "post Judgement Day" world. I know we saw glimpses of it in the previous films but they were mere glimpses, a window into the world that open and shut quickly which just added to the intrigue. Leaving certain things offscreen can add to their effectiveness. It's why I hated the idea of the "Stars Wars" prequels. I didn't want to see things like the Clone Wars and I guess I never really wanted to see "post Judgement Day" so up close and personal. It's that old man in me. Why can't some things just be left to the imagination?

He's (About To Be) Baaaaack

Recently Cinema Romantico's infamous Madam of Pop Culture made us aware of a movie entitled - simply - "Nine". But apparently that is as simple as "Nine" is ever gonna get. To begin with, and most importantly, it stars one Daniel Day Lewis which left Cinema Romantico in a state of shock. After all, he was in "There Will Be Blood" back in 2007 and, thus, the timeframe for his next acting job would have been around 2012, 2013.

But nope, the two-time Oscar winner will return to action this winter in Rob Marshall's "adaptation of a musical based on a play based on Federico Fellini's classic '8 1/2'" (what?) which also stars Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, Sophia Loren, Kate Hudson, Fergie-

Reader: "What's that?"
Cinema Romantico: "That's Fergie."
Reader: "You mean, Black Eyed Peas Fergie?"
Cinema Romantico: "I believe so."
Reader: "'My lovely lady lumps'? That Fergie?"
Cinema Romantico: "We double checked on IMDB."
Reader: "You're sure?"
Cinema Romantico: "See for yourself."
Reader: "Fergie is in a movie with Daniel Day Lewis?"
Cinema Romantico: "Look, how many ways can I say yes?"
Reader: "Daniel Day Lewis okayed this?"
Cinema Romantico: "Maybe he didn't know?"
Reader: "They have scenes together?"
Cinema Romantico: "I would assume."
Reader: "Isn't that like LeBron James going one on one with Northern Iowa's Kwadzo Ahelegbe?"
Cinema Romantico: "Probably."
Reader: "Do you suppose after one of her line readings he just got fed up and snapped and turned into Bill The Butcher from 'Gangs of New York' and pulled a knife and shouted, 'You see this knife? I'm gonna teach you to speak English with this f---ng knife!"
Cinema Romantico: "One would hope."
Reader: "Do you suppose Nicole Kidman, Judi Dench, Penelope Cruz, Marion Cotillard, and Sophia Loren all took turns bashing Fergie upside the head with their Oscars?"
Cinema Romantico: "Why so much hate for Fergie?"
Reader: "I don't hate her, I just want to know where she gets off thinking she can act."
Cinema Romantico: "Well, it is a musical. She had a number one single, you know."
Reader: "'Big Girls Don't Cry'. Oooooooh. Got me there. A regular Billie Holiday."
Cinema Romantico: "She's a singer. That's all I'm saying."
Reader: "But you know to prepare for this role Daniel Day Lewis trained intensively with someone like Juan Diego Florez and that now he's probably a better singer than Fergie ever was."
Cinema Romantico: "Wow. Good point."
Reader: "Do you suppose on the soundtrack Fergie will do a cover of Kylie Minogue's 'Put Yourself In My Place?'"
Cinema Romantico: "Okay. This Q & A session is over. The Dutchess is acting with Hawkeye and we're all just gonna have to accept it and....boy, when I say it loud...."
Reader: "We could commandeer the film and edit her out."
Cinema Romantico: "Hmmmm....."

(Watch the preview here.)

Summertime Resolution

I'd like to take a minute here to advise my thousands upon thousands of loyal readers that reviews of theatrical releases for the next few months will be fewer and farther between as I have resolved to see only the big name summer releases I really, truly do want to see. Thus, no "Angels & Demons", no "Star Trek". I pondered seeing that "Management" movie with Jennifer Aniston and Steve Zahn this weekend but, nah, I chose to indulge in "The Merry Gentleman" a second time. (And be very, very thankful I'm not unleashing one of my 18,000 word rants in relation to why I love this movie so much and why the Oscar race for Best Actress should already be over - so behave, or else.)

The only bad part was "The Merry Gentleman" got moved to the crappy theater in Chicago (for instance, at the showing I attended all the previews were in the wrong scope) after a mere two week run at the very nice, quite classy, well run Landmark Cinemas. I just don't get it. Honestly, I don't. Here we have a full-blooded masterpiece, far better than anything released all of last year, and it's at the Landmark for fourteen days while the outrageously inferior "Sunshine Cleaning" gets to shack up at the same place for almost two months now?

I guess it's just more proof that I don't understand "what people want" when it comes to movies. Maybe people merely think they want to see "The Merry Gentleman" but when they peruse the movie times they can't find the tiny blurb for "The Merry Gentleman" (if it's even made it to their city at all) and then see the bold lettered ad for "Angels & Demons" screaming at them from the middle of the page and then they see it has a 10:00 AM show and 11:00 AM and 11:30 AM shows and a show at noon and at 12:30 and then there's the 1:30 and the 2:30 and the 3:00 and the 3:30 and the 4:00 and then you've got the 5:00 show followed by the evening shows at 6:00, 6:30, 7:00, 7:30, 8:30, 9:30, 10:00, 10:30, 11:00 and midnight and think, "I must be confused. Obviously this is the movie I want to see."

(Not that I'm here to discourage people from seeing a movie I haven't seen. So let me quote the words of the Chicago Tribune's Michael Phillips who says "Angels & Demons" is "like being waterboarded by exposition" and the words of the esteemed New York Times' A.O. Scott who says "The only people likely to be offended by 'Angels & Demons' are those who persist in their adherence to the fading dogma that popular entertainment should earn its acclaim through excellence and originality." Sounds like a CAN'T MISS hit!)

My Great Movies: A Life Less Ordinary

In the wake of Danny Boyle earning the Best Director Oscar for "Slumdog Millionaire" I returned to what I consider his singular masterpiece, and, no, I'm not talking about "Trainspotting". Upon its release in 1997 "A Life Less Ordinary" was a critical and commercial bomb. The most common criticism typically involved the word "mess". The esteemed Roger Ebert in a decidedly non-plus review wrote "the plot's a mess." Owen Gleiberman termed the film a "fractious mess." Salon's Stephanie Zacharek called it "excessive, passionate and messy." It is a description I do not dispute for simply summarizing this movie as being about two star-crossed lovers on the lam would not be doing it justice. It is, after all, a mess, which is precisely its prevaling theme.

The film opens in heaven, washed in white, minus the harps and wings, functioning as a police station and showing that apparently it takes a lot of manpower to keep eternal paradise humming, where the angel Gabriel (Dan Hedaya) assigns two of his fellow messengers of God, Jackson and O'Riley (Delroy Lindo and Holly Hunter), down to earth where they are to ensure that hapless janitor Robert (Ewan McGregor), whose single dream is to write the Great American Trash Novel, and Celine (Cameron Diaz), the spoiled daughter of Robert's boss (Ian Holm) who has never worked a day in her life, fall in love. If not, the angels don't come back.


They waste nary a moment getting to work as Robert is swiftly fired, dumped by his girlfriend and evicted. In a moment of rage, and utter clueslessness, Robert storms the office of his former boss just as Celine happens to be meeting with him since he is upset that she has gone and shot her potential fiance (Stanley Tucci) in the head (don't ask). He explains her punishment will be "to go to work".

Thus, when Robert takes Celine as his hostage at a mountainside hideway after his best efforts to reclaim his job fail spectacularly and it quickly becomes clear he has no idea what he is doing, she chooses to offer her expertise on the matter, what when you consider she was kidnapped previously at age twelve.

Once the initial ransom demand is made the angels offer their services to Celine's father as bounty hunters which, of course, allows them to further their plight to guarantee the two fall head over heels. Gunfire erupts, banks are robbed, credit cards are turned off ("only the exceptionally rich could know how I feel"), alter egos are assumed, karaoke is sung, and, damn, if this mismatched guy & girl don't start to feel a flicker of love.

Still, though, I don't feel anything I've said has even begun to ready you for the bounty of insanity offered up in this film or the way Boyle delightfully revels in the smallest of flourishes - the rain slicker that adorns Lindo's fedora in a late scene, Hunter (who, by the way, I think is fabulous in this movie - a great actress getting to cut loose) spitting chaw, a dazzling string of saliva that connects Robert and Celine in the moment after their first kiss which was no doubt unintended by Boyle, thereby lending to the theme of divine intervention, or the look on McGregor's face when Diaz sternly declares "go to your dark side."

He has no dark side. He may be the first kidnapper without one. Sure, he puts a gun to her head (which pairs with a later scene when she puts a gun to his head) but he covers her in a blanket when he ties her up and cooks her dinner. His feelings are genuinely hurt when she accuses him of being "the worst kidnapper I've ever met." He may be decent and compassionate but he's also neurotic and self-doubting and does not particularly trust the decisions he is making as he goes along but also does not have the courage to question them. His actions may get bolder but, in the end, he still has the same luckless heart. Diaz, on the other hand, relishes playing the bad girl and this early turn in her ouvre seems to suggest she is better at being a, shall we say, devil-may-care bitch as opposed to the more generic romantic lead.

The movie, however, does not merely limit itself to its two leads, forcing its supporting characters to exist solely in the orbit around Robert and Celine. They are themselves, distinctly, and all have their own stories to tell.

The esteemed Roger Ebert once wrote about the glories of "supporting performances from character actors who come onstage, sing an aria, and leave." This quality is found in abundance in "A Life Less Ordinary". Whether it's Ian Holm's soliloquy near the start to the wonders of money ("how it flows relentlessly back towards he who owns it") or Delroy Lindo's tale of the love of his life ("sweet Eliza Gray....her father was a colonel") or Maury Chakin turning up briefly as a suspicious neighbor or, best of all, Tony Shalhoub's monologue near the end that is so grand, so perfect, I will reveal nary a word and allow you to discover (or re-discover) it on your own.

Perhaps the viewer may feel his or herself questioning the angels' methods. Critic Owen Gleiberman, also untaken with the film, wrote: "The plot, with its interlocking contrivances, is like a machine that keeps trapping the actors in its gears." Maybe, but during the course of a relationship don't you occasionally feel like interlocking contrivances keep getting you stuck in its gears? Don't you sometimes wish the storyline with your significant other was as obvious as a trash novel about Nazi gold hidden underneath the embassy? Don't you often feel like a mysterious force, maybe a force from above, is guiding you but doing so without the help of a well thought-out or clear-cut plan?

A telling moment occurs when Lindo's angel sits off to the side watching as Robert digs his own grave (again, don't ask), ruminating on the earthly state, and says, "The truth is, I don't think even He knows what's going on down here." We see heaven, yes, but we don't see God. His presence is hinted at only once on the other end of a phone call, allowing Dan Hedaya to bark the immortal line, "This is Gabriel. Get me God." It's a celestial version of corporate America, the Lord delegating important responsibilities to middle management which may be ill equipped to deal with certain situations. Maybe times have changed and their old methods need a bit of re-structuring.

"I remember the good old days," says Lindo's angel at another point. "All you had to do was introduce a man and a woman. Nature did the rest. Doesn't work like that anymore. It's all gone to s---." Meet Cutes aren't so simple anymore. Nothing is.

I have always wondered if the film might have done better to conclude a scene earlier. The end has never made much sense to me. It's confusing, a bit of a....mess. But then life's something of a mess, too. A big, steaming mess, and not just because whatever divine order there is to the universe so often feels out of whack. No, sometimes it's a mess because we - meaning, us - make things too damn difficult. Too many questions, too many reservations, too many doubts, too many fears, on and on, and the moments when the world does present us precisely what we want on a silver platter we still somehow find a way to muck it all up which is why if we all have a guardian angel, and I prefer to think this is true, there is no doubt in my mind he or she often looks at us from above and, like Holly Hunter, bellows, exasperated, "Human f---ing beings! What do you have to do?!" I wish I knew.

The Most Unprescient Scene In Movie History

Recently, to get myself in the "spirit" of summer movies, I rented "The Towering Inferno", the 1974 disaster movie epic from Irwin Allen, the same man who brought you the original "Poseidon Adventure". These sorts of movies were all the rage back when people wore leisure suits and "The Towering Inferno" was arguably the most famous of the lot.

It contained an All Star cast, in the truest sense of the term - Paul Newman and Steve McQueen received top billing, with people like William Holden, Faye Dunaway (getting less to do here than Zooey Deschanel in "The Happening"), Fred Astaire, Robert Vaughn, Robert Wagner, and someone else whose name I will not reveal until a little later in support. The "story" concerns ace architect Doug Roberts (Newman), the sort of guy who "used to wrestle grizzly bears", who has helped build the world's tallest skyscraper, 135 floors, in San Francisco, called The Glass Tower. Unbeknownst to Doug, however, the building's owner (Holden) and his dastardly son (Richard Chamberlain) cut costs during the construction by skimping on the electricity and safety portions of the tower. Uh oh!

So wouldn't you know that the same night of the luxurious party meant to christen the beautiful new building that a huge fire would break out on Floor 81, below The Promenade Room where the party is taking place. The Fire Chief (McQueen) shows up on the scene but can only do so much and, soon enough, the majority of the party-goers are trapped at the top of the Glass Tower as the flames rages out of control.

Admittedly some of this footage is a little freaky in the light of 9/11 and some of the action sequences are actually kinda riveting and some not so much. Your standard disaster pic, I guess. My favorite touch comes in the opening credits where they advise us Irwin Allen (the aforementioned producer) specifically directed the "action scenes". (The rest of the movie was apparently directed by some poor sap named John Guillermen. How much, I wonder, did that guy hate his job? Guillermen: "C'mon, Irwin, can I just shoot one scene where something blows up?" Allen: "No, no, John, we discussed this. I'll handle things blowing up, you worry about William Holden looking good in his smoking jacket.")

I mean, this is just great. I envision Michael Bay graduating to only directing the "action scenes" at some point in the future. Really, that's all he does anyway - direct action scenes. Take the scene in the dreaded "Armageddon" between father and daughter (Bruce Willis and Liv Tyler) just before he's about to set out for the asteroid. It's supposed to be, you know, tender and serious and at the end of it, as father and daughter embrace, what happens? A bunch of helicopters fly by overhead. Even in the most "heartfelt" of scenes he couldn't help but squeeze in a few helicopters. God, I hate Michael Bay.

But I digress. The most important part of "The Towering Inferno", as far as I'm concerned, is a scene that does the worst job of foreshadowing future real life events that I have ever encountered and, thus, it must be applauded.

As the fire breaks out on Floor 81 the Glass Tower's head of security watches it happen from his control room, which looks suspiciously like the bridge of the Star Trek: Enterprise. Really. He bravely heads up to the fiery floor to make sure everyone is evacuated and, sure enough, enters a room to find a cute kitten all by its lonesome and so he heroically rescues the kitten from certain death. This scene is a staple of these sorts of movies, as we all know, but the key issue is the actor portraying the head of security.

O.J. Simpson. Yes, O.J. Simpson saves the cute kitten from the fire.

Do you think the day of the white Ford Bronco that "The Towering Inferno's" filmmakers were thinking, Gee, we really screwed the pooch on that one.

Nothing But The Truth

Rod Lurie's political drama/thriller that only made it to theaters last year in New York and Los Angeles possesses one of the most atrocious endings I have ever witnessed. It is utterly grandiose in its awfulness. It is the Three Mile Island of movie endings. I wanted to break bricks with my head when this movie ended. This movie, which stars Kate Beckinsale, made me long for the end of Ms. Beckinsale's "Pearl Harbor" where she and Ben Affleck stand in the sunset with their son who is actually Josh Hartnett's son. That end had some grace, some class, compared to this one.

The film is inspired by - though not "based on" - the New York Times reporter Judith Miller who was jailed for contempt of court when she refused to reveal her source in relation to her article outing Valerie Plame as a CIA operative. In "Nothing But The Truth" Beckinsale is Rachel Armstrong, a reporter for the Capital Sun Times, who has a husband and son at home and is on the verge of publishing an article that outs her fellow soccer mom Erica Van Doren (Vera Farmiga) as undercover CIA. The government immediately enlists Pat DuBois (Matt Dillon, quite good) as special prosecutor to determine precisely who Rachel's source was that leaked this information. Rachel stands fast and, thus, the court holds her in contempt and much to her, her husband's (David Schwimmer) and her lawyer's (Alan Arkin) chagrin she is carted off to jail where she will stay until she chooses to fess up.

Like hell she will. Once behind bars the film shifts to a bit more of a domestic drama as she goes days and then months without seeing her son. Her husband accuses her of putting her career before her family. You know how it goes. Will this break her? Or won't it? And will the CIA discover the outed operative is, in fact, Rachel's source? Or is her source someone else? Hmmmmm....

The biggest question - at least for me - was whether or not Beckinsale finally made her mark with a film placed firmly on her slender shoulders. Well....she certainly isn't bad but I have to finally admit that maybe she just doesn't have that extra gear possessed by the best actresses. She earns points for letting herself look pretty darn bad in jail. Note the interview she conducts with the not-hard-hitting journalist. They show her a few times in closeup and it's pretty clear she is not wearing makeup. For Hollywood actresses, man, that is pretty damn bold. The scenes with her son are good. Unfortunately, she just doesn't have enough dramatic heft for some of the material. She's in jail a long time, you know, and other than that nasty bruises on her face you don't feel as if she's undergone any real change when the end rolls around. And do we really feel like this woman, at the beginning, has the fire, the willingness to roll around in the mud to pull off this sort of story?

Honestly, she's outdone by Farmiga who is required to make shifts from being a soccer mom reading books at her daughter's school to confronting CIA agents in an emotionally charged sequence in a cemetery. Alan Alda, meanwhile, does a credible job making his turn from cocky, "Zegna" wearing lawyer to a lawyer willingly working pro bono.

But, of course, what does any of this matter when you have a conclusion so hideous? If you thought the movie might not actually reveal Rachel's infamous source, don't worry. They do. Lord Almighty, they do. You won't see it coming. If you do somehow see it coming you will be hoping and praying that it won't actually come but it still will.

General consensus is that Hitchcock's "Psycho" has the worst ending of all time, and it is bad. The unecessary and awful blather offered up by the psychiatrist. Except the end of "Psycho" doesn't fundamentally change the movie's outcome. It is merely an ungainly appendange. It is why I have often argued that "Changing Lanes", an otherwise brilliant, underrated movie, contains the worst ending in cinematic history. It does fundamentally change the movie's outcome. Although, in this case, it was clearly added at the request of someone who wasn't the director or the writer. If you don't watch it you see the movie already had a perfect ending.

The end to "Nothing But The Truth" goes further - it fundamentally changes the outcome in a bad, bad, bad, bad, bad, bad way and it was clearly conceived by Lurie himself from the beginning because it is set up at various other points during the movie. What was he thinking? Was he that pathetically desperate for some twist the audience would never guess?

Here's the primary problem: For an hour and forty minutes Lurie has given us a brave character who is stands firm for her belief. She has flaws, yes, and is in some ways abandoning her family, but this is a person who believes in something and determiens to see it through. She gets sent to jail and gets beaten, as the film says, "to within an inch of her life" and she still refuses to cave in for what the movie argues is a noble principle. Whether or not you agree with what she is doing you can admire this character for taking a stand.

Except the end wipes all of that off the board. Essentially it tells us that Rachel's entire motivation was less about nobility than about than about ensuring she does not negate her chances at that precious Pullitzer. In fact, it kinda unintenionally parodies the end of "Dick" when Will Ferrell as Bob Woodward tells the two teenage girls (who are, in fact, Deep Throat) they will never reveal their names. Not for their own protection, per se, but because "it's just too embarrassing."

Perhaps this was Lurie's intent. Perhaps he wanted to get the audience going in one direction for the whole movie and then suddenly reverse directions in the last instant and completely change our take on her. Perhaps he wanted us to go from crawling through the muck and mire with Rachel to wanting to just leave her to rot in that same muck and mire. If, in fact, this was his intent, well, bravo, mission most definitely accomplished.

But then I don't know his intent and, frankly, I don't care. Whatever it was, I didn't simply dislike the end, I actively loathed it. This is a lesson for all you aspiring screenwriters - please don't "shock" the audience for no good reason.

Why I Love Canada

It was recently brought to Cinema Romantico's attention that in our review for "State of Play" we predicted that in 10 to 15 years Rachel McAdams will be viewed as the "pre-eminent American actress" and that this prediction was quite impossible since Ms. McAdams is, in fact, Canadian.

Oops!!! (Not to worry, Cinema Romantico's fact checker has been properly reprimanded.) I actually think I knew she was Canadian but it just slipped my mind. Besides, this already makes her the pre-eminent Canadian actress. No waiting around for Meryl Streep to vacate her throne!

Anyway, I don't want Canadians reading along to think I'm another one of those ignorant Americans who view Canada as some cold, vast, empty wasteland which provides nothing of great consequence. That could not be further from the truth! I love Canada! Thus, it's time to revise my official Top 10 Things I Love About Canada List. Here goes....

1. The Arcade Fire
2. Rachel McAdams
3. Kathleen Edwards
4. Labatt Blue
5. Dahrran Diedrick (i.e. The Big 12's Leading Rusher in 2001)
6. Eric Schweig (i.e. Uncas in "Last of the Mohicans")
7. Sleeman Ale
8. The Saddledome (the coolest indoor stadium on the planet)
9. Sarah Polley
10. If it wasn't for a Canadian, this never would have happened.

Oscar = Influence

Kate Winslet has been named one of Time Magazine's 100 Most Influential People. Director Peter Jackson penned the brief ode and noted her "fierce intelligence...willingness to take risks...(and) unflinching honesty."

If I may, I'd like to add her earnestness to that list. Few things have pissed me off more this year (in the movies or anywhere else) than the backlash she received for her gushing acceptance speeches at the Golden Globes. Heaven f---ing forbid someone should get up there and be completely genuine in their happiness to win an award. How sad is society when sincerity gets you mocked?

I don't like fake people. Kate ain't fake. If her earnestness makes you queasy, well, in the words of Juno's stepmother, "Go fly a kite."

Lymelife

Derrick Martini's "Lymelife" is a noble attempt at a coming-of-age film. As we know, there have been many, many coming-of-age films but I don't subscribe to the Overdone Genre Theory. If a film's good, it's good, irregardless of the material. "Lymelife" is noble because in the face of the usual suspects like virginity and bullies it does seem to desire getting across a real, moving story. It just doesn't entirely succeed.

The title of the film is taken from Charlie (Timothy Hutton), who has been infected with lyme disease, which has become rampant in the Long Island neighborhood where the film is set, and he spends most of his days sitting in front of a blank television, wilting away. But Charlie is not the film's focal point. That would be his next door neighbor, Scott Bartlett (Rory Culkin), a typical teen who is in danger of wilting away. He pines for Charlie's daughter Adrianna (Emma Roberts), who is friends with Scott but prefers "older guys". Scott's parents meanwhile are in a marriage that itself seems to be wilting away. His father Mickey (Alec Baldwin) is more concerned with his land developments and new house he plans to his build that his wife (Jill Hennesey) does not particularly want since she really doesn't want to be in Long Island at all and longs for the days when the family lived in Queens. Now couple that with the fact Mickey is having an affair with Charlie's wife (Cynthia Nixon) who conveniently happens to be Mickey's secretary. Maybe Scott will succeed in getting out of Long Island like his older brother Jimmy (Rory Culkin's real life brother Kieran), who has joined the army. Or maybe he'll too end up with lyme disease, a fate which his mother vigilantly does everything to ensure he avoids.

Thankfully the film does not over-emphasize the time period and passes on most of the stupid sort of humor involved in most movies of this ilk. It yearns to be an honest account of growing up with undertones of humor rather than vice versa. The relationship between Scott's parents feels spot on. She knows he cheats and he seems to know that she knows and yet they stay together. For the "good" of the kids? Probably, but then the film doesn't explicitly say so. There is a nice moment when they whisper an argument, thinking Scott is out of earshot, but, of course, he is not. His friendship with Adrianna is handled well, too. I especially liked when he told a lie in regards to he and Adrianna, partly because I felt that is something he would have done and partly because her reaction to the events seemed believable.

Charlie, on the other hand, is obviously critical but is too much of a symbol rather than a living, breathing character. The film pretty much plops him on the couch and then gives him a monologue here or there to hammer home the points of the movie. Not to disparage Hutton's performance. I've always liked him as an actor but he seems to wind up in a lot of movies that fall by the wayside. (Next year will be the 30th Anniversary of his Oscar win for "Ordinary People" which is kinda hard to believe.)

Most of all it comes down to the end. I just didn't like it. It left a terribly sour taste in my mouth. Too arty, too show-offy, too lion-or-the-tiger-y. For a movie that so often tries to get across real emotions such fancy pants filmmaking seemed unecessary. Perhaps next time out the Brothers Martini (Derrick and his sibling Steven wrote the script) will stick it to the good stuff.

The Merry Gentleman

A ways into this film I came to the sudden realization that it was happening, that I was in the midst of a miraculous movie going experience, the kind for which I so dearly pine when the movie leaves the screen and merges with me. I wanted to stop the projector, if only for a minute or two, so I could just sit in my seat and smile and soak up the feeling, the moment. "The Merry Gentleman" is Michael Keaton's directorial debut, yes, but it is also the finest film I have seen since "Atonement."

Have I built it up too much? No? I haven't? Phew. I was a little worried. This is a gentle, still film that will not, under any circumstances, be rushed. This is a poetic film that has so much to say about faith, about friendships, about happiness, and all without shouting it from the mountain tops. This is a film where the direction (Keaton stepped in for screenwriter Ron Lazzaretti who fell ill before filming which is why, I assume, Keaton nobly allowed the written by credit in the title cards to be last) never disrupts, never calls out for attention, but still manages to find beauty in so, so much. This is a film at the center of which stands Kelly Macdonald's performance, even though Keaton, of course, receives top billing (and he's fantastic in his own right). Macdonald is....well, I could spend the rest of this review merely listing adjectives to describe how good she is. Let me put it this way: the Performance of the Year begins right here. And it quite probably is going to end right here. This isn't just quality (though let it be known this is quality acting of the highest order), this is personal. This is Hilary Swank in "Million Dollar Baby" territory for me.

Now have I built it up too much? No? I still haven't? Thank goodness! This is a film that evokes the golden age of moviemaking. It is driven by its characters. It is in possession of heightened material - a hitman, suicide, a woman on the run from an abusive ex-boyfriend - but presents it matter-of-factly, weaving it beautifully into the fabric of its narrative. The story the movie tells, regardless of that story's subject matter, is told flawlessly.

Macdonald is Kate Frazier. We receive a few initial glimpses of her painful past at the start and then we find her settled down in Chicago. She has a huge bruise on her eye. She makes up various lies about its origin. Keaton is Frank Logan. Yes, he's a hitman. We see him at work. He seems cold, calculated. After one job he climbs up on the roof of the building across from the one where the person he just shot lays. He intends to jump. But that same building across the street is where Kate works as a receptionist. She steps outside and because it is snowing, which makes her happy, she looks up to watch it fall. She sees him. She yells out. He slips and falls...backwards and onto the roof.

Two detectives turn up and inform Kate of the person who was shot dead in her building. They think the man across the street had something to do with it. But it was too dark and she didn't really see him. One of the detectives (Tom Bastounes) thinks he might ask her out but he's not sure. "I'm a divorced alcoholic," he says. But he does ask her out. Well, sort of.

But all these are the particulars, understand, and you have to see the film to feel its ambiance and the profound ways it quietly evokes character. Consider the fashion in which Kate and Frank meet. Is it Cute? Sure, but focus on those sorts of things and you're bound to miss the film's riches. The build-up to the Meet Cute is perfectly constructed. Kate is at her office party. Drunk, stoned, stupid men are making pathetic passes at her. She flees. Her taxi passes a little place selling Christmas trees and she lights up. She wants one. Here's a person, the movie says, who will fight, tooth and nail, to not let the world suck away all her joy. If Kate Frazier is not a true movie heroine then I have no idea what a movie heroine is and I don't ever want to know.

Then she takes the tree to her apartment but it is so towering she can't make it further than the entry way before collapsing under its weight. Enter Frank, visiting "friends" in her building. He helps her take it upstairs. He is beyond reserved, he talks quietly, haltingly. He says, "I found a girl under a tree."

Inevitably they form a friendship, under circumstances I will not reveal. And that's precisely what it is - a friendship. A friendship that exists because at their core they are distinctly similar. "We're two private people," Kate observes of them in a quiet, tender scene in a hospital that is sooooo amazing I'm fighting off the urge to stop typing and go do a cartwheel.

Look, here it is, I know these people. I do. That he's a hitman has nothing to do with anything. It is his occupation. That's it. Character is developed through action, and in "The Merry Gentleman" through interaction, though sometimes with people like these it is a bear to get them to interact. A co-worker of Kate's mentions how she tells Kate everything about herself and Kate tells her nothing about who she really is and, well, damn, I've had that exact conversation several times with several different people at several different offices.

The movies so often give us characters who need saving. In life, real life, we sometimes need saving too, even if we don't admit it. We'll look anywhere to find a savior - God, a beautiful woman, a sweet man, a fantastic Ryan Adams song that Michael Keaton apparently likes as much as me. But "The Merry Gentleman" knows that while other people can help, and often help in a considerable way, ultimately it's on our own shoulders. No one can decide for us. We have to save ourselves.